


Archenfall's Betrayal

by fizzycryptid



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-13
Updated: 2018-06-13
Packaged: 2019-05-21 21:19:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14923047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fizzycryptid/pseuds/fizzycryptid
Summary: More character intro!





	1. Chapter 1

Far outside the borders of Archenfall lies a tiny cottage at the edge of the great boreal forest. Albeit plain and unassuming-- if one were to wander in, a world of mythic secrets would be found within the rotting wooden walls.

Just like Madeline herself, the den was cluttered. Her thoughts frequently wandered, as did the animals dwelling inside her home; this hut and its inhabitants were as much a part of the woods as the trees themselves. Worn journals and accounts of her travels scattered about the shelves and piled high on the worn floor and the dusty furniture. Scribbled notes and lengthy accounts filled the tattered books, with sketches of wildlife and doodles of flora framing the almost illegible handwriting. Madeline’s soul poured out from the dirt-stained pages: you could tell that everything that was hastily underlined was important to her, that the exclamation points communicated passion, that the cramped writing showed how quickly her thoughts came and went. She wanted to remember her ideas, and because she feared that she would lose something important, she drew, wrote, and doodled on. Perhaps she was trying to become more organized.

Maddie had once tried to arrange her den in a wise, functional manner. Just as she was cleaning up old bread crumbs, a sprite pushed over the carefully lit lamp and caught the rug on fire, cackling maniacally. The sprites she housed meant well… usually. They were small in form, but Madeline had found that no two were alike. Intricate markings of a range of colors patterned their bodies, some had pointed ears and others had hair that sparkled. Most fae that wandered into her home were factionless, so the girl rarely had to deal with inter-court disputes. As dissimilar as they may seem, the fae reminded her of the dragons she'd harbored since she was young. Both had their own very fragile sets of specific social etiquette that, if broken, could end in very unfortunate incidents. Dragons, however, varied quite vastly; Madeline filled almost 10 journals about the breeds in this area alone. Docile as the smaller ones might seem, often travelers who wandered through her shop would have to keep a close eye on any shiny objects they carried. Like the royal family, dragons never hesitated to put themselves in the spotlight. But much more humble, a stag of silvery fur walked the woods around her house. She’d first encountered it in her garden chewing on her rhubarb plants, though she didn’t have the heart to shoo it away. Maddie was too entranced by the glowing stars the hung from its ivory antlers. In the seconds it had taken her to advert her eyes and dig the notebook out of her satchel, the deer was gone. In its place, a beautiful shimmering flower sat hovering above the dirt. ‘Moonflower’ Maddie’d scratched into the paper next to her sketches on the plant, ‘Moonflower of the Celestial Stag.’

The sound of knuckles on the oaken door jolted Madeline from her thoughts. Moving the injured midnight panther-- she'd found it this morning-- from her lap to the pillowy couch by the hearth, the young keeper padded over to the back door of her home.

"Storefront is around the other side off the-" Maddie had started, but cut herself off when she saw the rather intimidating mage woman at her door. Her hair was matted and tangled, the leaves and twigs that entwined themselves in her curls made the mess look almost intentional. Runes drawn in charcoal painted her stoic face and ran all the way down to her dirt-stained feet. No shoes of any kind to protect her from the rough undergrowth of the dense woodland. 

Noticing how Maddie’s eyes hovered on her bare feet, the stranger defensively stated, “Forest folk, who’ve walked this ground since the beginning, have no use for shielding against the earth.”  
Madeline only pondered this for a moment; she was busy postulating that this woman slept on the forest floor at night. Xylia then revealed, “I do. They call it pillow moss for a reason.” The stranger smirked when Madeline appeared to be taken aback. Refusing to acknowledge the joke, Maddie straightened her posture in false bravery. “What have you come here for?” she spoke, uncertainty lacing itself through the girl’s voice. 

“You have something of mine.” Xylia scanned the room behind the redhead.  
“What is it that you think I possess? I haven’t taken anything from you,” she stated firmly.  
A soft mewl interrupted the stiff atmosphere, and a wave of realization washed over Maddie. The panther’s companion.  
Slightly embarrassed, Maddie tousled her hair and admitted a shy grin, “Would you like to come inside?” Confidently, the stranger stepped over the threshold and drifted towards Kumkani, the wounded cat she had been so concerned about. For she had known the animal was wounded-- it had just taken her too long to find it. The woods had whispered to her, but Kumkani had hidden away to heal alone. Sometimes this breed of panther was too prideful to show weakness, even to those they considered family like the forest witch, Xylia.  
“I was surprised at how tame he seemed, it makes sense he’s a witch’s familiar,” said Maddie. “The injuries aren’t grave, but his stubbornness made him rather difficult to bandage. Luckily, I had just found my recipe book, Animal Treats for Ailments. He greatly enjoys the mandrake biscuits. I’ve taken to calling him Midnight... What’s his name?” She added, “And what’s yours?”  
“He’s Kumkani, I’m Xylia, and you’re Madeline.”  
Not as alarmed as she should have been, Madeline blandly nodded. She knew the forest witch had powers beyond her own apothecarial knowledge, but the knowledge of her name and the panther’s whereabouts was still off-putting for Maddie.


	2. Let the Father fill our lungs with water so we may better love the air.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More character intro!

There was barely room to walk between the crumbling houses. When the population had spiked under the reign of (royal family G and A’s parents), production of housing had been rushed and resources were stretched thin. Hundreds of flimsy structures packed into the tight peasant sector of the kingdom… It was only a matter of time before the consequences would be apparent.  
Blisteringly dry summer heat tore through the country; it was a barren wasteland surrounded by lush but unforgiving forest. 

The first clap of thunder shook the shabby shingles of the peasants’ roofs.  
The first rain had seemed like a blessing from the heavens. Thunderclouds had rolled in from the north, but in place of water, fire fell from the sky. Lightning struck the cheap straw that wove together to form the crowns of peasant homes; the feeble structures put up little resistance.  
Only 6 months old, the raven-haired child lay snuggled in his crib, blissfully unaware of the chaos that reigned just outside the walls of his home. His mother was preparing supper while his father sat whittling away at the rough edges of the old dining table. Leaning away from his work, Michael’s father wrinkled his nose and abruptly asked if dinner was burning. His wife shot him a side glance, amused that he would question her cooking, but her expression quickly changed to fear, as smoke began to seep in under the door. An exchange look was all the two parents needed. Michael’s father darted for the back door, desperately trying to push it up open while his wife pulled the swaddled baby from his crib. Flames licked the wood of the house, causing a structural beam to come toppling down dangerously near the couple. A scream tore through his mother’s throat and she clutched Michael tight to her chest; their exits were blocked and the smoke had become almost too thick to see through. As ash filled their lungs, the only thing heard over the raging fire and smoldering ruin were cries of the baby who lay curled in his mother’s lifeless arms. 

 

A hushed giggle rung through the dormitory; small fiery animals ran across a tiny palm. “Michael!” A woman’s voice screamed as his door was thrown open. She gasped at the sight, his eyes wide as he quickly extinguished the flames by closing his hand around them. The woman stomped towards him and grabbed his wrist hard enough to bruise: “I told you this was your last warning! I’ll have none of the Devil’s work within these walls!” She dragged him down the stone corridor towards the pools of holy water where they performed baptisms and “cleansings.” “No! Mama, please! I’m sorry!” The boy cried, but she didn’t let up. “I am not your mother,” she muttered, and pulled him along.


End file.
